


Winter’s Sweet Nothings

by irlpatchnotes



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluffy, I still don’t know how tags work I’m trying, M/M, Reader-Insert, but its just some good ol lovin’ Dwight for Christmas, mistletoe kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 15:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlpatchnotes/pseuds/irlpatchnotes
Summary: You and Dwight Fairfield have been by each others’ sides since day one. So what happened? Why is it now, that Dwight can’t so much as look you in the eye without turning the other direction while his ears glow red? Perhaps the coming winter will provide you with some answers... Or maybe something even more special.





	Winter’s Sweet Nothings

Within the darkness of such a forest, where hopeless souls are gathered to fend for their lives in an unending game, there is truly no sense of time. No, instead, every day is cloaked in fog and darkness, with no sun or moon to tell what month or year it is. It’s been replaced by a sense of a cycle, the time when it’s warmest and the Entity pulls the survivors into their trials, and when it’s coldest, and the people are given time to rest, reconvene, as well as give forth their offerings in exchange for items to claim as their own. That is the way life works in such a space within an endless nightmare—it's the life each person who lives there comes to recognize alongside understand. No one ever questions it.

However, once in a blue moon, the men and women of the bonfire wake up to see that their place of residence has changed in its appearance. Those are the times everyone awakens to be met with decorations resembling the season, despite how sickeningly sweet they may be. When those days approach and the survivors open their eyes to a place familiar yet so different, they are able to approximate the days coming before them. The haunted glow of Jack-o-Lanterns symbolizes the coming days of Halloween, while the stench of margaritas and poorly charred meat gave everyone the heads up of summertime. 

This “morning” was different, though. Rather than another gloomy day where everyone had breakfast knowing of their impending trials, each tent was furiously shook by the local cowgirl, who was dressed in a puffy blue jacket. Waking up every party in her rampage—aside from Laurie, Jake and Bill, who were already awake—Kate wanted everyone up and at’em to share her exciting discovery. Of which included you.

Head strewn to the side and sleeping bag sheets a special kind of mess, it was needless to say you were incredibly spooked by the sound of your tent practically being kicked down. Flailing your arms about in a panic, you let out a scream of something unholy as the world around you came into view. The song bird didn’t stop just yet, however. Instead, she continued to shake and shake until you were growling at her, ready to throw punches for shattering your precious sleep.

“Kate, what the  _ hell _ ?!” You screeched, hearing her friendly accent come filtering through the fabric of your shelter.

“Come on, it’s time to get up! You’ve gotta come see what’s outside!”

Putting a mental reminder to scold the woman for ruining your good night’s rest, you moved to the side in order to put on some clothes that could be considered clean for the day. You rubbed your face with your palms before tugging on a long-sleeved shirt, deciding to take your sweet time getting ready considering your rude awakening. With your normal set of shoes and pants, you prepared for the day ahead, shuffling around your belongings until you found the toolbox you were looking for.  _ It never hurt to be safe _ , you thought, unzipping your tent to be met with cool air.

Allowing your retinas to dilate for a moment, you looked forward, noticing what had brought Ms. Denson to all her excitement. Pale flakes of ice fluttered down in the morning breeze, sticking to the floor just enough to coat the forest environment in white. Not to mention the few holiday fairy lights strung up in the evergreen trees that surrounded the campfire, their colors a neon variety full of spirit. The weather had taken it’s chance to change during the night, which was understandable, but part of you wondered where the lights had come from. What was powering them? You naturally blamed the Entity before moving to take your seat by the bonfire.

Plopping yourself next to Laurie Strode, you noticed how she too was dressed for the cold weather, in her tanned jumper and jean pants. She gave you a nod of good morning as she brushed hair from her face, a gesture which you returned with a wave. Nea and Meg were already in the process of throwing snowballs at each other, one of which ended up nearly clocking Claudette square in the face had Bill not shown up. Feng was kicking her feet around the frozen area, while Quentin had just been leaving his tent after catching up on his frequent lack of sleep. It was surprising, with as many survivors were still snoozing away in their tents or just hanging out with one another, the place was much more lively than usual. It almost made you uneasy.

“Snow, eh?” 

The voice of a Manchester citizen spoke clear through the excitement as David King took a seat next to you and Laurie, lifting a hand out in an attempt to catch a few flakes in his palm. You turned to look at the man beside you while nodding, tapping your feet against the fluffy, frozen ground. This explained why Kate was so excited and ran around waking everyone up, seeing as snow was a bit of a rarity in the Midwest of America. But you chose not to say much about the weather, and instead looked to the decorated trees with a watchful eye.

“The Entity, most likely,” Laurie replied, gazing out to the others having their own events in the snow. Tapp was currently helping the previously mentioned Kate make a snowman, much to her delight. 

“Must be holiday season back in the real world.” Your voice was but a mutter in the festivities, filled with sorrow as you thought about home. “Hanukkah, Christmas, New Years… All of it must be coming to town. Guess the Entity didn’t want us to feel left out as we were being stabbed.”

David snorted at your attitude towards the being that carried you all here, but remained respectful for once. The snow must’ve reminded him somewhat of home as well as to be so patient with everyone today. You found it best not to question his behavior, however, and simply reached down towards the snow at your feet. You only managed to trace a few images into its surface before you felt a sharp slap on your back. Gritting your teeth, you turned to catch the well-built man grinning at you in an attempt to help you feel better. You were tempted to wack that look off his face with a snowball—one with a rock in it.

“Don’t worry ya head over the lil’ things! We’re all like family, so we can spend the holidays togetha’ with everyone!”

“Oh can it, you just wanna fall victim to eggnog and mistletoe,” you shot back, watching as Laurie snickered.

The fact that the taller man didn’t reply and instead just laughed meant that you hit the nail on its head, which made you sigh. Despite the obvious merriment of everyone else around you, you personally weren’t feeling the quote-unquote “magic” in the air. The only magic you were seeing was the fact that Quentin had managed to fall asleep in the middle of making a snow angel after finally coming outside, and that Nea and Meg were still zero-zero in terms of their snowball fight score. Ever since you left home and found yourself in this realm, you’d been nothing short of lonely. Sure, you had a handful of close friends and helped look after those a few years younger than yourself, but the only person you could even consider special here would be one Dwight Fairfield.

When you woke up in this strange place, it’s easy to say you quickly learned how to become afraid of being put upon a hook. Running left and right from a man with a splitting smile across his face lead terror to find a home in your heart, but the moment you wanted to give up was the moment your foot snagged into a bear trap. A yelp left you as pain filtered through your leg and tears clogged your vision, all while you tried to remove the metal teeth from your leg. Each attempt you made to free yourself was met with no result, and you swore you could feel cold eyes along your back. Death was knocking down your door and you found yourself helpless, with nothing to do but hope this time was the one.

That was when you noticed a shuffling through the brush and your movement stilled. A man, with short black hair and wide framed glasses peeked from behind a few stocks of grass, yet you found neither of you moving. Instead, you both held eye contact with one another for the time being as if studying each other. It was a strange interaction, with no words spoken until you glanced down at your foot. Still bleeding, you tried to save yourself once more, only to notice a hand that wasn’t yours reaching towards the contraption.

“Hold still,” he said, being very careful with how he pulled apart the jaws. “I’m gonna get you outta here, and then I’ll fix up your ankle, okay?”

You remember nodding before feeling the painful spikes move away from your flesh, which you reacted quickly to. Darting away from the trap, you made your way behind a broken inlet of a wall, only registering the remaining pain as the endorphins wore off. The stranger returned to your side shortly after, removing bandages and disinfectant from the inside of his shirt pocket. Despite how awful the ache in your lower leg was, you never got mad at this man for the pain the rubbing alcohol induced. Instead, you held your tongue and waited for him to finish, taking deep breaths as he did.

In that first trial, you remember sticking right beside him as if he were some guardian angel or saint that needed protecting. Generators were repaired and with only one final sacrifice, you came to know Dwight as someone you could rely on. He was the leader type, even though he wasn’t as strong-willed as some might expect from those kinds of people. The man panicked under pressure and fumbled when nervous, but he believed in everyone he worked with. He’s been killed and sacrificed as many times as you could count, but even after his own losses, he would do his best to prove himself worthy of protecting the people he cared about. It was that quality in him that you grew to love, but brushed off as admiration.

If you were going to consider spending the holidays with anyone, it would have to be him. Though, knowing his shy and awkward personality, you didn’t dare think too hard about asking him to keep you company. For all you knew, he could have plans with his buddy Jake or even just wanted to spend some time by himself while he had the chance. For you this seasonal event would come and go, without so much as a “Happy Holidays” given from you to anyone. In your eyes, the coming days would be just the same as those previous, simply with more snow and fairy lights.

Broken out of your thoughts by the strange feeling of someone’s arm over your shoulder, you peered up from the snow to glare at David as he tugged you close to his chest. Growing increasingly uncomfortable, you watched him laugh while Laurie awaited his inevitable fate of being put in a headlock. One day this man would realize that despite the brotherly feelings he radiated, you were the kind of sibling ready to rumble and win.

“Ey, stop lookin’ so down, short stack! Ain’t no need for ya t’git ya nickers in a twist about bein alone for the holiday season!”

Grumbling to yourself, you quickly pulled his arm behind his back and wrapped yours around his neck, ready to choke him out.

“The only thing in a twist is gonna be your broken arm when I’m done with you, King!”

Laughter left the campfire side as you and David got to your ritual play fighting, tackling one another and pretending to knock each other out before bursting into fits of joy while others spectated and placed their bets on the victor. No matter how annoyed he made you, there was no way for you to be angry at him by the end of the day. Even though you would never admit it, the rough and tough Englishman was the closest thing you had to a real family member. Although sometimes, he would piss you off into a point of no return, today he was just trying to cheer you up and wipe away the look of depression you had written across your face.

What you hadn’t noticed in the midst of your battle were two men standing away from the group, with one leaning against a tree and the other watching with a disheartened expression on his face. Dwight and Jake—the men of the original four survivors—had yet to come close to the circle of comradery, and were currently preoccupied. The skinnier man, dressed in a thin blue jacket ran a hand through his hair, only to use that hand to push his falling glasses back up his nose. The woodsman, on the other hand, kept his eyes on a crow sitting in a tree not to far away, pulled away from his staring when his friend spoke up.

“It’s not fair,” Dwight muttered, an exhausted sigh leaving him between his words, “David doesn’t even have to try, and he gets their attention like  _ that _ ! Nowadays, they hardly even look at me, Jake… What am I supposed to, to do? I can’t compete with him!”

“Well you  _ can _ , you’re just afraid of losing to him.”

The man was right, despite how harshly he put it. If Dwight lost the person he loved and cared about so much, he’d be completely beside himself with shame. To have you say to his face that the feelings weren’t mutual would grant him nightmares and loneliness that would rest alongside him forever. And though, yes, he may have been overreacting when thinking such a thing, but you were so much more than just a schoolboy crush to him. It was almost like he was put under a spell of infatuation, granting him an endless desire to love you.

“This is hopeless.” Dwight’s shoulders slumped down as he pushed his glasses back up once more. “I can’t think of an outcome where this turns out in my favor, Jake.”

“You know, Dwight, if you  _ don’t _ tell them, you’re gonna have too many regrets to count. Meg says it’ll give you wrinkles if you keep worrying about it so much.”

Groaning, his hands flew to his face as Fairfield tried to calm himself down and think of a plan. How on Earth could he “man up” and tell you how he felt? His brainspace, however, was a complete mess of failed plans and thought-out scenarios that all lead him to a sense of defeat. It was as fruitless as growing mangoes in the winter for this extremely average, awkward, lanky man to figure out what he could do to win you over. Thusly, his friend stepped in.

“Hey, if it’s so hard for you to confess to them, why don’t you just find someone else to crush over,” Jake asked, trying to provide an alternative solution so his buddy wouldn’t seem so down in the dumps.

“I-It’s not that simple.” The nervous fellow was barely able to mumble that out as his answer before replying properly. “You see… It-It’s like there’s something in my heart that just… Whenever I see them, it makes it hard for me to function. My brain gets all scattered and I feel weak in the knees, like, like I’m just caught in some kind of trap. And I know that’s cheesy or whatever, but it’s true! I’ve come to a decision that they’re the one and now I just can’t tell them! And I can’t say no to my heart either, I’ve tried and then when I see them out in the trials? It’s like I’m walking on air or something, my stomach gets all warm and it’s just—! I can’t do it!”

While his friend went on rambling about how “impossible” it was to tell you how he felt, Jake had found something else that caught his eye. Growing from a bush had been a plant he knew hadn’t been there before, seeing as Claudette specified it didn’t grow in this area due to the climate. In fact, there was a moment where the male almost believed it wasn’t the plant in question, but upon his quiet inspection, he had concluded that it indeed was. Taking a moment to think, the survivor formulated a plan, making sure Dwight was still in his thoughts before snagging a few leaves of the flora.

Upon making his return, the man shoved them into his anxious friend’s chest, gripping them tightly but not enough to crumple them. Naturally startled, the leader’s form stiffened, but he wasn’t able to get a word in just yet. Jake wouldn’t let him talk for now, and simply continued to push the plant leaves towards his friend. Eventually—albeit hesitantly—Dwight took the leaves and looked at them, confused as to what exactly the survivor had given him. Though, he was met without an answer.

“If you’re so afraid to confess, go take those and give them to [Name],” Jake instructed, pointing at the leaves. “They’ll do all the talking for you, and then you’ll have your answer, okay? I’m not gonna answer any of your questions until you hand them over. But be sure you’re both wearing gloves.”

Without further adieu, the woodsman took his leave back to the campfire, watching as you stood with one foot upon David’s shoulder in a triumphant victory. In the meantime, the glasses-clad man took another look down at the plant, realizing Jake’s last words as he dropped the leaves onto the ground. Quickly pulling up his sleeves to cover his hands, he bent back down to pick up the items he had dropped, confused as to what they were. Although he wished Jake had told him exactly what the leaves were for, he knew his buddy had the best intentions for him, and took his word on the subject. 

Trekking back towards the bonfire, he watched as you pulled King back to his feet, warning him not to mess with you again. The familiar beating of his heart returned and for a moment his words caught in his throat, finding himself unable to speak up properly. What was meant to be sentences came out in quiet “uh”s that no one heard, but the moment you laid eyes on him, the man turned on his heels back to his tent. Confusion made its way to your head as he shuffled back inside, covering his face with his free arm in an attempt to stop his blush.

“What is  _ up _ with me,” Dwight asked himself, picking out a box from the surprise gifts the Entity had given him in the past. “I can’t even make eye contact now..? God, it just keeps getting worse!”

Eyebrows knitting together, you gazed in the direction of Fairfield’s blue tent with worry rubbing you the wrong way. Something had to be the matter—you and Dwight had always been able to talk to each other so well, but for the past few weeks, it was as if he were mad at you. With one glance, he’d turn away and speak to you in what was practically a stubborn manner, like it was forced. The action hurt you, despite your recent denial of it, and you wanted to know what was going on. Did you say something? Did he just not want to be your friend?

“Say, [Name].”

The voice of the former babysitter, Laurie, spoke throughout the liveliness of the campfire and drew you out of your thoughts. In fact, her manner of speech almost startled you, seeing as she was very careful with her choice of words and actions around anyone. Although, if you had been stalked by a serial killer with a kitchen knife in your own hometown, perhaps you’d be as adept as Laurie about your own surroundings. For her, every moment counted.

“You seem to have something on your mind,” she declared, brushing blonde hair from her face. “Tell me what it is—you can’t have outside thoughts distracting you during trials. You’ll lose your life that way.”

Upfront, patient, stern, but motherly. That was the nature of Laurie Strode, a woman who knew what she was doing. And like a mother, she could read right through your front of saying “it’s nothing” while having issues clog your current thoughts. Even though it would be embarrassing to talk about, you knew there was no way around not telling her what was happening. Despite the times she proved to handle herself just fine on her own, she, like everyone else, needed to make sure her allies were alright. 

“I’ve been thinking about Dwight,” you told her, noticing as her form straightened from your peripheral vision. “I dunno, we used to hang out all the time, and were even partners during trials, but… Now he won’t even look at me for more than a second. I-I don’t know what I did! I mean, I don’t  _ think _ I did anything wrong, or like, hurt him… He would’ve told me.”

A curious hum left he woman beside you, and you allowed her a few moments to think over the information you had given her. When it was issues during the Entity’s games, Laurie was incredibly quick-minded. Moving from one task to another, she knew how to keep people alive and well while being hunted. Personal matters weren’t really her strong suit, but that’s not to say she wouldn’t try to help. It would just take her some time, is all.

The quiet between you two was comfortable as you watched the environment around you, noticing that the dreamwalker, Quentin, had finally awoken from his snow nap. But just as your attention had been pulled away from her, Laurie brought it back. Her steely gaze upon you was one that couldn’t be ignored, almost as if the lady were tracing marks into your skin. It made you shiver and turn towards her, looking for her gaze.

“What,” you asked, feeling uncomfortable under her stare.

“I find it strange you’re so worried about Dwight. You can be rather independent aside from talking to people you’re close to, so I don’t see why this is bothering you so. Unless, of course, there’s something you’re not telling me?’

Ms. Strode was a very smart and cunning young woman, able to read her surroundings carefully while still being focused on herself. That’s why it was no surprise she had asked for more information. For in her eyes, this was a task that could endanger the safety of both you and Dwight if the two of you had lost contact, but there were a lot of people who had issues talking to one another. Feng Min came from a primarily Chinese-speaking family, and Quentin was a narcoleptic insomniac, however the pair that was you and Dwight had no issues with communication.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Laurie. I… I’m really close to Dwight, y’know? He’s the one who was there for me when I joined all you guys, and he’s stuck with me throughout everything. I just can’t see why he’d stop talking to me.”

“I see.” Laurie’s tone was gentle as she considered all possible options, then came to an idea, “Well, why don’t you talk to him in private?”

Your face was red within moments.

“I-In private? Why? Can’t I talk to him in front of everyone? Being all by ourselves just seems…”

While you tried to keep your emotions in check, the survivor beside you sighed and shook her head. Although she as well as Meg had already called it, now your apparent crush on the shaky leader was getting out of hand. It was starting to affect you and Dwight both, which was going to become an issue during trials rather quickly. That’s why this whole issue had to be resolved as soon as possible—before it caused trouble during a life-and-death situation. 

“So that’s why you’re so worried about seeing him,” she mused, watching as Nea finally went down from a snowball. “You’ve got feelings for him, don’t you? Why don’t you tell him?”

“Me? Tell Dwight—the guy who I practically see as family and someone who’s company is so important to me—that I have a crush on him? Very funny, Strode, but there’s no way that’s happening.”

The female gave you a questioning look, raising one eyebrow and placing a hand in her lap while the other rested against the snow-covered log that the two of you sat upon. You didn’t dare look over towards her.

“Why not? If you just tell Dwight how you feel, you’d be able to get a huge weight off your chest. Maybe after the trials you could go under the guise of wanting to check in on him. It’s better to say something rather than just wait around, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes and lifted a hand to cover your face, groaning in a gentle protest. However, it seemed as though Laurie really didn’t see the issue in confessing. Meanwhile, you—the one with a pent up pining need to kiss the male’s face until he was dizzy—could see the very obvious danger. Deciding that it would be better to explain rather than leave your comrade in the dark, you removed your hand and started to explain.

“If it were that simple, I would’ve told him already,” you started. “Look at it from my perspective—I, I’ve known him since day one of joining this hellzone. Imagine the toll of having to tell someone so close to you that you like them, and then they don’t return your feelings. Can you even  _ think _ of the repercussions? What he would think of me? A-And then there’s me, who would still have these strong feelings for him, but knows that he doesn’t like me that way. How could I live like that, Laurie?”

Quick to retort, the girl beside you leaned back as she spoke. “But what if you told him, and he accepted you for who you are? Or if you told him, and he felt the same about you? For all you know, the feelings could be returned and you’re just missing out.”

Groaning loudly, Laurie turned to watch as you hung your head in your hands once more. She was a smart woman, Ms. Strode, and knew not to push further than she already had. It would only cause more harm than good, after all. For the moment, she just let you breathe and relax, while she attempted to think of her own plan to help. Something had to come from this after all; to run the risk of you and Dwight remaining out of contact was too much to give in to. 

However, it didn’t take the lady much time to think up a plan, considering that was one of the things she was best at. If you wouldn’t take the risk of talking to Dwight through your own vilition, then it might be best to just put you two in an environment where you  _ had _ to work together. The trials were a game that required teamwork, and if there was one thing Fairfield required of himself, it would be helping others. If you and him were to be put to work together, it could make for an interesting turn out. 

It was a lot to process and think about in a clear manner. How on Earth could you just waltz up to the person you love and spill your heart out the same way Meg spilled tea to Feng? As you removed your head from the palms of your hands, your attention was turned to the sound of someone moving. Laurie stretched her arms up towards the sky before looking down at you, then motioning towards your toolbox.

“For now,” she began, “get prepared for the upcoming trials. I can’t have you slowing anyone down, okay? Try to just clear your head a bit so no one has to worry about you and him. And by no one, I mean me.”

“Yes, ma’am…”

Exasperated and longing for a good nap, Laurie watched as you retreated to your tent for some time to relax. She remained completely still as she watched you wander away, toolbox in hand, until you promptly found your way along and entered your little shelter. That was when she returned to her own in order to gather a few items for an offering. Binding together what she could manage to get her hands on, the lady returned to the campfire with a certain air about her. Her eyes scanned the area before spotting something a little important.

Wandering back with a neatly arranged offering, the blonde bent down towards the fire’s awaiting glow. Usually, the survivors would wait just until their trials to burn offerings for the Entity, but this was a bit of a different case. So, rather than stand around and wait, Laurie tossed her bundle into the flames. The crackle of burning flowers and leaves roamed throughout the campsite as the Entity swallowed its gift whole, while the lady who bestowed this offering looked upon it with a questioning gaze. Should she believe in such a benevolent “god” to respond to her prayers? No, but that wouldn’t stop her.

Time passed quickly after your interaction with the strong-willed survivor, and when you awoke, it was to the sight of white snow falling alongside the smell of old wood. Picking yourself up and dusting off your pants, there was no time to wonder what had happened between the time you and Laurie finished talking. Instead, you quietly began walking, looking for the nearest generator to begin your trek back to the campsite without being put upon a hook. It would be difficult with your recent train of thought and the fog that covered your vision, but it had to be done.

Walking through the area left you with a familiar sense of fear, but it wasn’t long until you noticed a familiar shape through the fog. Hunched over beside a machine and tugging at a few wires was the man on your mind, Dwight Fairfield himself. For a moment you just watched him work, taking deep breaths and watching them appear as white puffs of air. Determination practically reflected off the glasses he pushed up with the side of his arm, but his eyes remained upon his hands. Every so often, he would check over his shoulder for any sight of the killer, but he had yet to catch your spying form from behind a tree. But of course, his natural bond with others kept him from taking too long to notice you.

His eyebrows rose for a moment, and he thanked the snowfall for hiding the embarrassing hue of his cheeks. Motioning you closer before he could stop himself, Dwight found you stepping towards himself slowly. And although he quickly turned back towards the machinery in front of him, the male couldn’t help but notice the warmth your presence brought to his heart. The feeling made his stomach fill with an exhibition hall of butterflies while his lungs grew pained with a need to speak but an overwhelming fear of doing so. Thankfully, you started the conversation for him. 

“Have you caught a glimpse of the killer yet?”

Startled by the sudden question, the leader’s finger caught the end of a spark from a snapped wire. Thankfully the action wasn’t enough to cause too much pain or cause destruction to the generator, but it did make him extra anxious about making a fool of himself. Trying to save his reputation with you, the male quickly reattached the wires, listening to the hum of working gears before peering over at you. Oh, how he regret that decision of his.

Delicate laughs and an almost carefree smile caught him in a trace, eyes widening as he watched you delight in his previous mistake. There was an aura about you that showed hope alongside a sense of love, radiating into his heart. It wrapped him in desire to keep that joy close to him, primarily for himself. Greedy, yes, but it was too much for him to try and ignore. His heart yearned for the release of affection, craving to be held and needed in a way no one else could accomplish.

“Careful there, Dwight,” you warned. “Next time you might end up calling the killer right to us,”

“Y-Yeah, uh, I, I’ll be more careful next time. Sorry…”

With a small glance to the man beside you, the memories of how he had been avoiding you returned, making you feel a little nervous beside the man. Would it be too much just to ask about it without there being any build up? Your eyebrows knit together as you pulled wires together, trying to consider your vast tray of options before something interrupted you. How could this be so difficult—you used to talk to Dwight without even thinking about the words before they flew out your mouth.

Sighing heavily, you moved away from the generator to plop your bottom upon the snow covered ground. It was too much for you to try and multitask with such a big arrangements of thoughts to clear through, and at this point you’d end up breaking the engine both of you were trying so hard to repair. Quick to notice your inner turmoil, the leader finished up his repairs and let the lights above his head blare down at him before pulling you away from the current position of the machinery.

Though your head told you to be startled and worried, your heart focused on the touch of your comrade, who pulled you along quickly in hopes of finding a hiding space. An old miner’s truck made for shelter as your heartbeat quickened, but not due to your crush’s closeness to yourself. Rather, with one peek out the window, sinister giggles of madness could be heard, along with a feminine scream. Doctor seemed to be looking for prey now that the generators showed signs of being repaired, though you and Dwight kept quiet for now. Once the landscape hushed, you let out the breath you had been holding while looking upon the male beside you.

“A-Are you okay,” he asked, shuffling back from you towards the front of the dead truck. 

“Yeah, I’m fine… I just have a lot on my mind lately and… Dwight, why haven’t you been talking to me?”

With no better time to talk, you posed a simple question to the man, your eyes searching him in an attempt to find the answer before he did. Though, he was obviously startled by your sudden notice of his actions—alongside the confrontation about it—and you couldn’t get a good reading. Rubbing his arm and giving his signature nervous chuckle, the man tried to think of a good reply that wouldn’t put him in an uncomfortable position. Though, that took him a little longer than he had previously expected.

Instead of proper words, his response came out in a series of “um”s and “well”s before he noticed the hurt in your eyes. For him to put you in such a position made him feel horrible, plus, the idea of pushing you away without a reasonable explanation tugged at his heartstrings to play a melody of guilt. Dwight knew it was unfair to pull wool over your eyes and pretend everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t, but his mind was going a million miles a minute.  _ Fix this, _ he thought.  _ I have to fix this. _

__ Unable to think fast enough for words, the leader in question instead shoved a box to your chest within moments. Obviously confused by the sudden action, you looked down towards the object and took it into your hands while he moved his own away. Though, the moment you tried to ask what it was, Dwight stood up and shook his head furiously.

“D-Don’t open it while I’m here! Wait to—Wait until the trial is over, s-so you don’t lose it, okay? It’s for you!”

Just as you were about to thank him, the survivor was sprinting from the abandoned machine into the snow. You watched his form disappear into the fog for a moment before curiosity hit you and landed in the object in your hands.  _ What’s inside, _ you wondered, lifting it to your ear in order to give it a small shake, the sound was soft and light, like a feather, but still heavy enough to hit against the box. 

Despite your friend’s request not to open until the trial was finished, you couldn’t help but grow more interested by the second. Christmas gifts were unexpected in a place like this, not to mention something to be worried about. What exactly could he have gotten you that was so important he had to put it in a container and not be around while you witnessed its contents? The tension was killing you, and even though he asked so nicely—albeit nervously—you couldn’t help yourself from just taking a little peek. What was inside made your words catch in your throat, as well as your heart skip a beat.

 

After a grand total of two sacrifices not including yourself and Laurie, the match came to it’s inevitable end. Practically squirming in your seat by the fire, you watched Dwight as he spoke with his pal Jake for a while. With how excited you were, it was tempting to just snag the anxiety-ridden male by his arm and take him with you by force, but this time you would be patient. It was a difficult task, though. After all, it required you having to wait and involved a lot of foot-tapping while you remained seated.

Your hard work was soon rewarded, however, as Dwight waved bye to Jake and turned around to head back to his tent. Standing up as the male in question made his way closer towards you, you took the chance to grab his wrist to stop him where he stood. Confused, the survivor turned to see who needed him, only for his face to erupt into several lovely shades of red. A single attempt was made to free himself from your grasp, but the look in your eyes caught him off guard as you tugged him back to his tent. The stares of Laurie and Jake went unnoticed to you, though the smiles they exchanged between one another caught Dwight in a sense of panic.

Once inside the tent, you set down the shaken man in your hold, watching as he stumbled onto the ground as you sat in front of him. How he wished he hadn’t said anything to you about the gift his friend told him to give away, seeing as being in your presence made his stomach coil with a familiar, longing heat. With his best attempts at staying calm, he fixed his seating arrangement to better face you, though it took him a few tries, The smile on your face only widened as you moved to reveal an oh-so-familiar box before him.

You unveiled the familiar leaves to him as you removed the lid to the container, and watched for a moment as he nibbled on his bottom lip shyly. Dwight shuffled in his seat and ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm despite his incredibly distressed manner. Without a word spoken between you two just yet, you rolled up your sleeve and reached forward to pluck the leaves out from their previous location. The leader tensed, attempting to swallow his nervousness.

“I wanted to thank you… For the present,” you announced, flicking your eyes up to the male watching you. “You know what this is, right?”

“Well, I just, uh…”

“It’s mistletoe.”

Silence swept through the small area as Dwight processed your words, his eyes going wide as red made yet another appearance upon his face. Words left him in a Souter of sounds and incomprehensible mutterings, but all you could do was smile and lift the plant up above your his head. Catching his gaze quickly, he looked up to the green leaves for just a second before realizing you had come closer to him. 

“You know what people do under mistletoe, right, Dwight?”

“H-Hey, w-wait just a second, I—”

Words no longer became necessary as a pressure was put upon his lips and his whole body stiffened. The world felt like it was spinning, his heart pounding heavily as that familiar heat in his stomach spread round his entire body and captured him in a roaring fire. Thoughts in his head were replaced with the feeling of you pressed against his chest, catching him in an experience never had by him before. It was magic; he felt dizzy and so full of an incredible infatuation that the only thing he could do was return the action given to him.

Slowly, Dwight found his hands at your waist, pushing his mouth against yours in a silent plea for more. Eyelids fluttering shut, he knew there was no way he had a clue what he was doing, but he could’ve cared less. All he knew was the happiness and love in this moment, alongside the need for more. That need was what pulled the two of you to the floor in a mess of joy and tenderness; a fit of kisses and cooing.

As the heat broke between the two of you, the male fixed his glasses while his face presented a smile unknown to anyone but you. 

“I’ve… Been  _ dreaming _ of the moment I could kiss you like that… To… To have you look at me like this,” he admit, flushing with embarrassment as he confessed the feelings deep within his heart. “Please, I-I cant live without this feeling I get from you… I care about you so much, [Name], I want to feel like this with you forever! Please, I love you, p-please be with me!”

Effectively shushing him with another kiss, there was no need for a verbal answer from you to him. The thick cloud of endearment that wrapped around the two of you was enough for him to feel his heart swell, knowing that his wish had been fulfilled by some kind of miracle. And although the kiss broke into fits of laughter and smiling, there was nothing more than true love and happiness in the air, like some kind of cheesy fairytale. But neither of you could care, not with the bond built between you, of which was stronger than any diamond ever made.

Meanwhile, the pair still outside, Laurie Strode and Jake Park, congratulated themselves for being such great wingmen. With the present of mistletoe and an offering used to get you and Dwight in the same trial, they were nothing short of incredible matchmakers. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy dwightmas everyone! i wrote most of this heat of the moment, so i didn’t get time to read over it, but i hope you all enjoyed some smooches with local anxiety leader


End file.
